


Red Light

by marvcltrash



Series: The Black Cat College AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: College AU, M/M, black cat college au, nonbinary hunk, pidge is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:45:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvcltrash/pseuds/marvcltrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well random stranger, I saw from across the arcade you’ve been kicking major ass on DDR… Allow me to dethrone you.</p><p> </p><p>You do not need to read the first part of Black Cat College AU to get it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Light

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be maybe, tops, 3,000 words. Here we are. This kind of hints at Keith having autism, but it doesn't outright say it.

 

Dance Dance Revolution wasn’t exactly one of the hobbies Keith was most proud of, but he could say he was pretty good at it, honestly and confidently. He wasn’t even actually ashamed of it, even if some thought he should be. It was something he started after he dropped out, like every other hobby he had, but it was one of the only ones that didn’t make him look better for universities or make him money. He had gotten into Garrison on skill alone, and he was pretty proud of that, even if he would have rather had a high school diploma on his register than a GED. But, to get this point in his life, he was okay with how his life had gone. 

Except, the douche bag trying to challenge his score right now. He was actually  _ good,  _ unlike a lot of Keith’s previous challengers, but he looked at Keith like he was angry at him or something, and that didn’t quite sit well with him. It made him want to win more and more, the more the taller boy looked at him, the more he wanted to see him  _ lose. _ Keith had really lost his temperament in the last few years; he could vaguely remember being even tempered in maybe late middle school, early high school. Perhaps, though, that was his sated curiosity and the controlling environment of public schooling. Whatever. 

The problem was, though, when Keith looked back at random guy, he lost a little of his concentration, though random guy seemed perfectly fine splitting his attention between the game and glaring at Keith. Their first game ended on the closest score Keith had ever seen to a tie, both of them with AA scores, but Keith had it by twenty points, for which he had never been more grateful for his own skills, not even when he got accepted to Garrison, really. Was that petty? Probably. 

“Good game, man,” he said peaceably, not milking his own win too much. “Good game? No! I call a rematch!” random guy exclaimed, rapidly gesticulating with flying hands, which, Keith begrudgingly thought, was kind of cute. But, the sentiment was  _ anything  _ but cute. Keith was a tired guy. He had things to do. “There are other people in line, if you didn’t notice,” Keith replied, but when he gestured towards the small crowd around them, they all shook their heads. Oh. Well. “You trying to chicken out, princess?” random guy taunted, smirk both irritating and attractive. Fuck, Keith couldn’t back out now. 

“I won, so I’m picking the song,” was all Keith said back, already flipping through the songs with the touch pad before random guy could reply. “What’s your name? It’ll make the story better when I tell my friends about kicking your ass at DDR later,” random guy almost seemed to laugh as he spoke, like he was constantly amused. “My name is Keith, but it’d be great to get your name too, so I can tell  _ my  _ friends the real story, about how you  _ lost  _ and still  _ demanded a rematch _ ,” Keith sniped back, a sly smirk gracing his features. Random guy sputtered for a moment. 

“Okay, one, you beat me by twenty points, and I was still warming up. Two, my name is Lance,”  _ Lance  _ batted right back, and Keith would hate to admit he kind of liked this, the back and forth banter. Granted, he was still angry and wanted to grind Lance into dust, but talking to him a bit more fun than it could have been. Keith finally decided on a song and pressed into it, getting into his usual starting stance as  _ Whip My Hair  _ played loud from the machine. He could have sworn he heard Lance mutter “ _ Seriously?” _ but that was neither here nor there. Anyway, it didn’t matter how Lance reacted to his music choices; the only thing Lance was going to be reacting to was getting his ass kicked again. 

They danced with minimal speaking, but that didn’t mean they didn’t look at each other. Lance seemed to spend every other second looking at Keith, because his eyes were somewhere on Keith’s body whenever he tried to sneak a glance back. As mentioned before, Keith wasn’t nearly as good as dividing his attention as Lance seemed to be, and at the end of the song, Keith was staring, shocked, at the board, when a phone’s camera flash lit up the dim space around the DDR machine. His head snapped over to look at Lance. 

“I’m not even sorry. The face you were making,” he stopped talking to laugh, a snort coming through, “It was too good, man.” Keith’s cheeks reddened in both anger and embarrassment, not used to being beat at anything, let alone something he considered himself good at. “Pidge is going to love this,” Lance prattled on, his face also red, but with laughter and mirth. “Best two out of three,” Keith blurted out, though he usually wouldn’t ask - it was just, Lance looked so smug, and he couldn’t let him win, not when he was so… so… self-congratulatory and conceited. Those were the only synonyms Keith’s mind was willing to supply on the fly, apparently. 

Though Keith would have thought Lance would think himself above another rematch, his grin widened, eyebrows raising. “But aren’t more people waiting for a turn,  _ Keith? _ Well,  _ I  _ won, so I pick the song, right?” he proffered, flicking through the songs without answer, much like Keith had. Keith ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, probably irrationally angry, but he didn’t really know how to reply to that. He was right, of course. What a dick. The curve of his smile was surprisingly attractive, but Keith was angry enough to make himself ignore it. 

They danced through Lance’s pick -  _ Can’t Be Tamed,  _ like he had any room to judge - and it was another close round, but, by sheer force of will to stop looking at Lance, Keith won, by only ten points this time. He kept his celebration beneath the surface, only letting a smirk slip forth. Lance looked even more angry than the first time he lost, a tick forming in the muscles to the right side of his forehead, and Keith’s smirk widened. “You okay there, Lance?” he asked, tone a little bit too sarcastic to be genuine, but it wasn’t like genuine had been the goal in the first place; it was also a little too soft, playful to be scathing, which had been the goal. 

“Best three out of five,” was all Lance said by way of reply, and it was more of a grunt than speech, anyway. “Closing is in five minutes,” came over the speakers, and Keith made eye contact with Lance. “Sorry, man, looks like I’ve got to blast,” he said, giving a one shoulder shrug before making his way through the small crowd, disappearing on his way back to Garrison. That was somehow even more fun than usual, but he wasn’t giving Lance credit for that at all. It had just been a good night.

 

* * *

 

Keith entered his dorm was a grin on his face, odd for the sullenness he was used to exsuting. Shiro raised an eyebrow at him when he saw him, placing his bookmark in his book before cracking his knuckles out of habit. “What’s got you in a good mood?” the elder of them asked, a light smile of his stretching his features wider, but softer. They were probably the two best known for an anti-expressionist nature, but, they had been roommates since Keith’s freshman year at Garrison, Shiro’s junior, and a year and some change together brought them closer than most. 

“Just a good night, Shiro,” Keith replied with a loose shrug, flopping onto his bed with little to no finesse, his head barely even hitting the target of his pillow. He was in a good enough mood to ignore his own lack of skill, smirk not dropping even as he got into the position he usually laid in to meditate, a relaxed prone. Shiro obviously let it go pretty easily, seeing as he didn’t interrupt Keith’s cleanse. Clearing his mind was surprisingly easy, sending everything into individual cubbies of his mind like he was taught to, regulating his breathing. It was usually harder than this, but he chose not to analyse it too much. It couldn’t have anything to do with Lance.

 

* * *

 

_ Fuck his entire life.  _ Keith hid behind an outcropping in the wall, a hand pressed against his mouth to keep him from verbally reacting. There was no way this was happening, things like this didn’t just happen to people, not good people, and Keith was a vaguely good person. Well, morally ambiguous, but he wasn’t a  _ bad  _ person. The instigator of this moral debate? Lance lived on the floor below him, completely unnoticed until a fateful night in Keith’s favorite arcade. Keith leveled a punch at the wall, relishing in the pain a little as he tried to breathe out his frustration and nervousness. 

Why had he punched a wall? It couldn’t be that bad. Keith rubbed his knuckles with the fingers of his other hand, counting to eight as he breathed in, holding for six, breathing out for ten. He turned in the opposite direction of where he was intending to go, going the long way around to avoid the aggressive boy. Still, Lance saw him. Keith could tell by the way he was stomping over, an expression that definitely read as irritated on his face. “No,” Lance said by way of greeting, or moreover, growled. “You do not go here.” 

Keith’s eyebrows came together and he got irrationally angry much too quickly; it seemed like Lance could get him fired up just by existing. “I’ve gone here for the past year, dipshit,” he snarled back, rolling his eyes as Lance’s lackey or friend or whatever finally caught up behind him. “Hi,” the friend said, seemingly not noticing the angry tone of the conversation, or perhaps outright ignoring it with a cheerful tone. “I’m Hunk. He/him/they/them, you?”  _ Hunk  _ continued, holding out a hand. Out of politeness, Keith shook it, but he was cut off before he could even begin to answer them. 

“This is  _ Keith, _ Hunk,” Lance spat out instead of letting him introduce himself, and it obviously held some significance for Hunk, as he nodded. “Well, I don’t hold any fire for people Lance decides he hates, so the question still stands - pronouns?” Hunk reiterated, making Lance sputter in a way Keith found almost funny. “He/him,” he replied, smiling at Hunk before looking back towards Lance with little more than a scowl on his face. “And why can’t I go here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He could literally  _ see  _ Lance getting angrier, rather than being able to feel it like with normal people. His dark skin was growing red, and Keith appreciated it in a way he, again, chose not to explore, but enjoyed all the same. 

“Because - we’re - we’re rivals!” he finally exclaimed, gesticulating in a wild way, and Hunk laughed, though even in that short time, Keith had almost forgotten he was there. For a moment, Keith was genuinely confused. It was one time! They had literally met once! Lance must  _ really  _ be the bitter kind, which wasn’t a personality type that Keith had a lot of acquaintance with, making it something he wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with right away. That was always nice.  _ Not _ .

“Rivals?” Keith asked, head tilted slightly to the left, an eyebrow raising seemingly ever higher. Lance sputtered again, which seemed to be a pretty common action for him, and Hunk laughed, bold and loud, which was also commonplace for the tallest of them. “Well, I’m not gonna stick around and watch this shitshow. I’ll be in our dorm, Lance! See you around, Keith!” Hunk said, making his exit after clapping a shellshocked Lance on the back. Keith could actually imagine seeing Hunk around, seeing as his kind personality made Keith more open than he was to anyone but Shiro. 

“Yes, rivals! You know, Lance and Keith, head to head at DDR, a bunch of people were watching!” Lance was rapidly beginning to seem like the kind of person who would text in all caps, which made Keith tired just to read, let alone interact with in person. Keith almost smiled again, like he had the first night he met Lance, but that wasn’t a part of who he was here. Keith, at Garrison University, did not smile. He was at the top of his class because he didn’t know how to make friends, right? That’s what they had told him when he still went to high school. 

“If you hadn't have tried to make me go again  _ five minutes  _ before the place closed, I mightn’t even remember you at all,  _ Lance _ ,” Keith replied, purposefully making his name sound like a curse, and he could see it on the other’s face, that it worked. If he had been able to come up with another L name fast enough, Keith might’ve pretended to forget his name. “Oh, I am memorable!” Lance spit, his face heating up again and Keith, again, had to hold back a smile. “I don’t really think so,” Keith shot back, keeping his face innocently blank. 

“Ugh!” the other groaned loudly, infuriated, throwing his hands down by his side. “I’m calling a rematch! Saturday, the arcade, seven o’clock, be there,” Lance demanded, gesticulating widely and bringing his hands together several times to make his points. “And how do you know I’ll come?” Keith asked, already knowing he would come, just to get Lance riled up like this again. “You’ll come,” Lance replied, rushing away in the direction Hunk had gone, which happened to be in the same direction as Keith’s building. Huh.

 

* * *

 

“You do not live here,” Lance said by way of greeting, and, at this point, Keith was both used to it and kind of annoyed. “I’ve lived in this building all semester, dipshit,” he breathed out through his nose, tired from his fencing practice and, truly, just wanting to be alone. Or, with Shiro and Noir, as it was. “Can you try calling me something other than dipshit?” Lance cut into his thoughts like a blade, an irritating and infuriating blade. “Like what?” Keith replied, as if he didn’t have a perfectly good name. 

“How about sunrise land?” Hunk singsonged from vaguely behind Lance, and though Lance showed obvious irritation he laughed. Keith, as was becoming common in the presence of these two, tilted his head. “It’s a meme,” Hunk explained quickly, and Keith nodded, though he was only approximately eighty percent sure what a meme was. “God, this guy doesn’t even know his memes,” Lance butted back into the conversation, as if not knowing something obviously trivial was reason for shame. Keith scowled. 

“Not that this isn’t, like, so much fun, but has anybody pressed any of the buttons? I would like to get to my dorm sometime this year,” Keith snapped, regretful immediately that Hunk might take it personally. They just shrugged while Lance scowled, still smiling, and pressing the number for the floor below Keith’s. “You live on eight? Me and Shiro live on nine,” he said, on the automatic, before realising what someone with bad intentions (Lance) could do with that information. “So does Pidge!” Hunk exclaimed, still cheerful as ever, and Keith was liking Hunk more and more. He’d make a good friend, if Keith did things like that. 

“What kind of name is Pidge?” Keith asked, momentarily confused, and Hunk’s face hardened for a moment before smoothing back out. “It’s his,” was all Hunk said as answer, and even Lance looked a little angry and defensive, despite his lack of participation in the conversation. Keith dropped it with a quickness, liking the anger Lance had before a lot more than the kind that actually said Keith had done something wrong, an idea that made his throat close with panic. He didn’t explore his need for approval, just like he hadn’t for years. 

“So, I hear you and Lance are having a little tournament Saturday,” Hunk said, changing the subject like a champ. “I don’t know where you heard that, I’m still not completely convinced I’ll show up,” Keith replied, just to rile Lance up, and Hunk seemed to understand with a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “I mean, I wouldn’t,” Hunk replied, though Lance had opened his mouth, no doubt to lay on some poorly worded snark. Lance, in short, looked duly betrayed, dark blue eyes narrowed, looking between them. “You’re just messing with me!” Lance exclaimed, brought to a (correct) conclusion. 

“Hunk, my bestest friend in the whole, wide world, and Keith! A guy with little to no sense of humor! Hunk, the man doesn’t even know his memes!” he continued, gesticulating even in the small space of the elevator, and Keith still refused to call it cute, especially when the other had just insulted him. “Need to tell Pidge he’s been promoted,” Lance muttered, cutting eyes at Hunk, who clutched at his metaphorical pearls and gasped. He looked, almost, genuinely hurt. “You can’t be mean to me and then make me want to take it back. I’m sorry, Hunk. You’re bestie position is still on lock, I promise.” 

Keith didn’t understand the exchange at all, but Hunk looked happier, and that probably meant it was, all around, good. In their small amount of interactions, Keith had come to trust Hunk’s reactions to things, if not Hunk in general. He didn’t always hold the closest grasp on conversational mood changes, so he was glad to have someone to watch. “Well, this is our floor,” Hunk said when the elevator stopped, and pulled Lance out with him. “Good to see you again, Keith!” he called behind him, and Keith could almost believe it.

 

* * *

  
  


It was eight o’clock, Saturday night, and Lance still hadn’t shown up at the stupid arcade for the stupid tournament Keith hadn’t even wanted to have. He was sitting on a bench in the mall’s hallway, like a idiot, waiting for an even bigger idiot who may have just been pranking him or some dumb shit. It wouldn’t be the first time Keith fucked up some social cue, if he had only been joking, but he had seemed so serious. And, goddammit, Keith wanted to win. And, he wanted to win against Lance, who was dumb enough to challenge him in the first place. Stupid Lance and his stupid tournament and his stupid not showing up. This was stupid. 

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out frustratedly to see Shiro’s face popping up on his screen, calling. “Shiro?” he asked as he swiped into the call. He had told Shiro where he was going, like he always did (college towns were never safe), so he shouldn’t be calling for another hour or so. “No, actually,” Lance’s voice said from the other side, taking a grainy quality from the phone’s static, “Though, I am borrowing his phone.” Keith tilted his head, even though he knew Lance couldn’t see it, out of habit. “You know Shiro?” he asked, confusion coloring his tone. 

“Not very well, actually, but I wanted to let you know why I wasn’t meeting you. I may have bruised a rib or two?” Lance crackled from the other line, the last sentence ending like a question. He sounded awfully nonchalant about  _ seriously injuring himself _ , but that was neither here nor there. “What happened?” Keith responded quickly, eyes narrowing, worried for reasons he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, name. “Nothing! I just - I got in a bit of a fight. I’m fine, though, thanks for worrying, mullet man,” and there it was, the laughing tone that always managed to piss Keith off, but he was glad for it, in that moment. 

“Did you just sit in the mall hallway and wait for me, you nerd?” Lance asked when Keith didn’t say anything in reply. His face heated up, his tongue running along the inside of his teeth. “N-no. Definitely not,” Keith replied, rubbing a hand across his face as Lance laughed. He wasn’t even sure why he had waited, why he had even come at all, because it wasn’t like he cared if Lance had been disappointed, if he hadn’t shown up, and Lance had. “You totally did!” Lance still sounded vaguely surprised, and was still laughing, as if that hadn’t already been confirmed. Keith groaned, embarrassed. 

“I’m not supposed to do much for the next few days outside of classes, so how about we reschedule, next Saturday, same time?” Lance offered, and Keith could still hear the smile coloring his words. He didn’t analyze the fact that he knew Lance’s voice like that. “How do you know I’ll come? Getting stood up is a serious offense, Lance,” Keith replied, and if he had been talking into a corded phone, his fingers would be tangled in the cord, like some kind of teenage girl. “You make it sound like a date, mullet head,” the other said, and Keith raised his eyebrows, a blush he was glad Lance couldn’t see covering his face. 

“Shut up,” was all he could think to respond with, and Lance laughed loud, before audibly wincing. “Go take care of yourself, dipshit,” Keith said, voice tinged with something like affection, and he was sitting in the middle of the mall with what must be a pretty dopey smile on his face. “I prefer sunrise land,” Lance sniped back, but it too was affectionate, and Keith needed to hang up. “Shiro’s looking at me a little impatiently, so I’m going to go. Sorry, again, mullet head,” and Keith still smiled, oddly attached to the stupid nickname from the even stupider boy. “Goodbye, Lance,” he said, before hanging up. 

Woah. Keith put his racing heartbeat, the pink in his cheeks, the warmth of his face, and his growing affection for his ‘rival’ in a box, and markedly didn’t analyze them.

 

* * *

  
  


They kept running into each other. In the elevator, in the hallway, on the ground floor with the snack machines, and even once or twice in the dining hall. Their conversations were like miniature battles in a war Keith didn’t even know he was participating in, but they also felt warm, fun, like banter. Keith ran into Hunk as well, who always made pleasant conversation with him, giving him a smile, a pat on the back, a kind word. Even though they were Lance’s friend, Hunk didn’t seem to give a royal fuck that there was supposed to be a line between Lance’s friends and Lance’s ‘rival’. 

Saturday came at a snail’s pace for Keith, for whom the weeks usually went like the wind, with how much he loved school, and with the impending graduation of Shiro. Not that Shiro graduating scared him. Totally not. Seeing Lance and Hunk made it go by a little faster, but that didn’t mean that Keith was brave enough to seek either of them out, and made do with completing any assignments weeks before their actual due date, and bothering Shiro. “How did he even know which dorm was ours?” Keith asked on Thursday afternoon, head tilted as it hung off his bed in one of his ‘meditative’ poses. 

Shiro sighed, closing his book with the bookmark perfectly placed, before smiling over at Keith, benevolent. “He checked every dorm on the hall besides the single, which he said belonged to someone called Pidge? Anyway, he checked about five before coming to ours, saying he was looking for ‘someone called Shiro.’ And, as someone called Shiro, I answered,” Shiro explained, flipping his book over in his hands several times. It was one of his psychology books, but Keith knew it wasn’t assigned; Shiro had read all of the assigned books by the first week of the semester. 

Keith nodded, one side of his mouth unconsciously coming up into a sort of half smile. “That sounds like Lance,” and his voice sounded more colored with endearment than his intention, and his smile dropped. Shiro, who had known him for so long, immediately caught onto it. “You’re into him, aren’t you?” the senior assumed, and Keith didn’t want to analyze anything enough to confirm or deny his suspicions. “Drop it, Shiro, please,” was all he said in reply, putting his head back onto his pillow, feeling his heart beat heavily in his ribcage. 

Shiro dropped it. 

 

* * *

  
  


It was Saturday, finally. 6:50 p.m, and Keith was already waiting for Lance, resting his back on the outcropping in the wall that marked the right side of the arcade, so he could see whatever direction Lance came from. At 6:59, on the dot, Lance walked from the opposite side, while Keith was looking towards his own right, and didn’t notice him. The taller boy snuck up behind his rival, a smirk painting his face, and grabbed him, intending up scaring him. However, Keith had heard him about ten seconds before he came up behind him, and let him do his thing. 

Keith turned around with the other’s hands still on his hips, making Lance’s hands switch hips unconsciously. “Is that what you meant, dipshit?” he said, smiling lightly, as he saw Lance’s face heating up and becoming red. Lance dropped his hands like he’d been burned, staring at the ground for approximately five seconds before he was able to make eye contact. “Are you ready to dance, mullet man?” he sassed, raising an eyebrow and regaining his composure. “Ready when you are, sunrise land,” Keith said with a shadow of a smile, walking past Lance to the DDR machine. 

“I had last win, so I’m picking first song,” he called behind him, and the other finally started half-jogging to catch up with him. “It’s going to be your last win,” Lance muttered beneath his breath, but Keith heard him, and still grinned. This was  _ fun. _

He picked a song he was vaguely familiar with before setting himself up, widening his hips a little for his best reaction time. He carefully did _ not  _ look at Lance. Much. For the next three or so minutes, they danced to some electro-pop beat, mostly evenly matched except for the fact that Keith was averaging about thirty points ahead, even though he tried not to look at that part of the board. The song finished and a “Winner!” banner flashed on Keith screen, making him grin, while a “Try again next time!” flashed on Lance’s, making him scowl. 

“Do we have to rematch again for your delicate sensibilities?” Keith asked teasingly, finally drinking in the sight of Lance as he looked over. “No,” Lance replied, surprising Keith, who tilted his head. “Instead, we’re going to grab some food, and you’re going to pay for it, because I haven’t eaten yet, and I’m  _ oh so sad about losing _ ,” and Keith didn’t know why, but he agreed to it, shrugging his shoulders and stepping off the pad. “Alright,” he said, and Lance looked surprised he had agreed as well, before the more smug look took over his features. And, there it was.

“Big Apple Pizza?” Keith offered, already walking towards there before Lance answered, though the other followed. Once they had ordered and were sat down, it got a mite awkward, before Lance started speaking. “Alright, Keith. We can hardly be rivals if I know nothing about you. Give me the dirt,” Lance said, with a slight smile. “You have to go first,” Keith sniped back on the automatic, wanting to keep the walls around his personality for a little longer, as long as possible. “Okay,” the other agreed, shrugging one shoulder amicably. 

“My family is huge. I’m from originally Cuba. My moms scrounged up money for eons to help those of us who wanted to go to university go, and they cried when I got my track scholarship. What are your parents like?” Lance asked, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Red light,” Keith replied, quick and short. “Red light?” the other was confused, tilting his head further. “It’s a conversational safe word. It means change the subject,” he replied, still quick, but less stressed, and hoping Lance would safely change the subject. “Alright,” he said, nodding briefly. 

“Where are you from?” he asked instead. “I’m from a little bit of everywhere, but from thirteen onward, I lived in a cabin in the desert. I dropped out of high school when I was fifteen,” he said the last part quieter, like he didn’t actually want Lance to hear (which, he kind of didn’t), but he did. “Am I allowed to joke about that or is that another red light?” Lance asked, making light of it in a way that lifted a little bit of weight off of Keith’s chest. “Green light,” was all he replied, taking a bite of his pizza. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! The next one is about Hunk, and then we'll be back to Klance! I'm really excited about Hunk's installment, no lie.


End file.
